The Hitchhiker's Guide to Middle-Earth
by Lemon
Summary: Arthur Dent, Ford Prefect and company get transported to Middle-Earth. Chapter 7 is up. It concerns... erm... stuff.
1. An Unexpected Party

The Hitchhiker's guide to Middle-Earth  
  
Disclaimer: As you can see, this is a crossover between the Hitchhiker's "Trilogy" and LOTR. Therefore, not only do I not own anything, I don't own it twice. Enjoy!  
  
1. An Unexpected Party  
  
Ford Prefect was observing, with a degree of detached amusement, Zaphod Beeblebrox banging his heads against one of the Heart of Gold's upholstered walls. The reason as to why Zaphod was banging his heads against the wall was unknown, but that did not detract from the entertainment it offered. And it would have stayed that way, had not Arthur Dent emerged and said, with stunning, obvious stupidity, "Why are you banging your head, uh, heads, against the wall?"  
  
Ford Prefect always knew humans had an annoying knack for pointing out the obvious. He just didn't know why.  
  
One of Zaphod's heads stopped banging itself on the wall long enough to reply, "Wallflallbit pooterphoot."  
  
"He's very drunk," Trillian explained with disgust.  
  
"Erp," said Arthur, deciding that waking up today was a very bad decision indeed.  
  
Ford had begun scanning through the entries in his copy of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, which was by now so worn with use that the words "Don't Panic" were beginning to fall off the cover. He threw it back inside his traveling bag and began rummaging inside, producing a towel, a bottle of Ol' Janx Spirit, and another book that he had never seen before. It had a bright green cover and fiery letters displaying the discouraging word:  
  
PANIC!  
  
He glanced at the title, which read The Hitchhiker's Guide to Middle-Earth. The introduction was thus:  
  
Any hitchhiker tired of hitching his way through the hostile galaxy, constantly being force-read Vogon poetry, putting up with Siruis Cybernetics products, never having enough Pan-Galactic Gargle Blasters and always in danger of losing his towel: worry no more! Instead of wallowing your way through the universe like a live mattress flolloping in a swamp, you can explore the parallel dimension of Middle-Earth instead! Simply press the green button on the back of this book…  
  
Ford looked up. Zaphod was still banging his heads on the wall. Trillian was counting the tiles on the floor. Arthur Dent looked very, very lost.  
  
"Ah, yes, the spirit of adventure," said Ford, and pressed the green button.  
  
It was a fair night in the Shire. The air was sweet with summer blossoms and the charred scent of lingering fireworks. A group of hobbits had gathered to hear the birthday speech of Bilbo Baggins, who was, at this moment, finishing it.  
  
"I regret to say," he said, "that this is the end- I am leaving- AAAAAAAAAGH!"  
  
The scream was not uncalled for. In front of him, out of thin air, four people had suddenly materialized, and one of them had two heads. 


	2. Learning to Adapt... or Not

Disclaimer: Nothing is mine! Nothing, you hear?  
  
2. Learning to Adapt… or Not  
  
The Hitchhiker's Guide to Middle-Earth says this about hobbits:  
  
"Hobbits are a peace-loving, good-hearted race of, essentially, midgets. However, it would be gravely imprudent, under any circumstances, for a hitchhiker to call one a midget, for this will likely lead to the loss of your cranium. You will find the hobbits hospitable folk, especially if you provide them with alcohol. Hobbit brewing, by the way, is some of Middle- Earth's finest, and their specialty, pipeweed, is known throughout the land. However, sensitive hitchhikers may find pipeweed to have more hallucinogenic effects than they can handle. Hobbit cooking is wholesome and consists mainly of mushrooms. In conclusion, you will find your stay at the Shire pleasant and entertaining. Just remember: never call a hobbit a midget."  
  
The four hitchhikers were now situated in the guest bedroom in Bilbo's hobbit hole. They had tried to explain that they were from a different galaxy, but none of their hosts knew what a galaxy was. However, after Ford had given them his bottle of Ol' Janx Spirit, they were too content, and too drunk, to ask further questions.  
  
"So, where are we?" Arthur asked.  
  
"We are in the Shire," said Ford, "and I've brought you here."  
  
"I was afraid so," Arthur muttered.  
  
"Oh, come on!" Ford exclaimed. "Don't you want adventure? Good times? Hobbit alcohol? Try something new everyday!"  
  
"Hobbit alcohol?" said Zaphod, and was gone like a shot out the door.  
  
"So, Trillian," said Ford, "you know he doesn't treat you well enough. You deserve better than that. For instance, if you went with me..."  
  
Zaphod dashed back in the door, punched Ford in the face with one hand while his two others were each holding up a mug of hobbit beer, then ran back outside again.  
  
"You must keep the Ring," Gandalf told Frodo. "Do not touch it, do not wear it, do not even think about it or you will grow a second head, just like that man who's running about outside drunk and calling everyone 'baby' right now."  
  
Frodo swallowed in fear. "Who is he? Who are they? And why are you letting them stay in my house?"  
  
Gandalf sighed gravely. "They are strange travelers from a distant land. Although my primary judgment tells me they are merely party-seeking nincompoops, they may become helpful yet. One day. Soon."  
  
After Gandalf had left Frodo limped sadly to the guest room. "Are you all content in there?" he asked.  
  
"Ack! Blue eyes!" said Trillian. "How old are you, little boy?"  
  
"Fifty something," said Frodo.  
  
"I don't go for older men," she told him.  
  
"What is that thing? A midget?" Arthur asked.  
  
"Never call them midge-" Ford managed to warn before Frodo dealt Arthur a vicious kick to the face.  
  
"Aaaaagh!" screamed Arthur, leaping up and down. "He's killing me! Get me the hell out of here! Get-"  
  
Frodo sat down and began to cry.  
  
"Aww," said Trillian. "Don't feel bad. Do you want to hear a story about my mousies?"  
  
At this moment Zaphod waltzed into the room, inhaling deeply from a pipe. "Hey!" he said, examining Frodo. "How're you doing, frood?"  
  
Frodo passed out. 


	3. One Blob to Rule Them All...

3. One Blob to Rule Them All…  
  
A few years passed by idyllically in the Shire, and Arthur Dent and friends soon became beloved figures in the community. Not that they wanted to, of course. The "back" button on Ford's Hitchhiker's Guide to Middle-Earth had malfunctioned, trapping them all there permanently. Zaphod decided to deal with this news by becoming the most infamous drunk in the Shire. Trillian turned down several hobbit marriage proposals. "It's the height, isn't it?" the suitors would shout, and then burst into hobbit tears. Such was life.  
  
One evening Zaphod went out for a walk with his pipeweed, which Arthur was still afraid to try. A few minutes later Gandalf arrived at the hobbit hole. He began his visit by thrusting the Ring Frodo possessed into the fire.  
  
"What?" said Trillian.  
  
"Why?" said Ford.  
  
"Huh?" said Arthur.  
  
"Aaaagh!" said Gandalf. "Curses! You are not supposed to be watching!"  
  
"We aren't?" said Trillian.  
  
"Meddle not in the affairs of wizards," said Gandalf, drawing himself up to his full height, and hit his head on the ceiling, passing out.  
  
"…For they are subtle and quick to anger," Ford finished the sentence. "I read the Guide, you know."  
  
"Damn you and your guide!" said Arthur.  
  
"Gandalf? Are you okay?" wondered Frodo. "The Ring's still in the fire, you know…"  
  
Ford snapped on a pair of gloves made from the hides of Ravenous Bugblatter Beasts and coated with a flame-resistant gel extracted from live mattresses. He thrust his hand in the fire, grabbed the Ring, and pulled it out.  
  
"Lemme see," said Frodo, hopping up and down.  
  
Ford looked at the object in his hand.  
  
"Oh…shit," he muttered.  
  
The Hitchhiker's Guide to Middle-Earth says this about the One Ring:  
  
"The One Ring was forged by Sauron, an evil being shaped like a metallic human armadillo. It is now with Frodo who got it from Bilbo who got it from Smeagol who got it from Isildur who got it from Sauron and I know you're not going to read this crap, so we'll skip it. The Ring is extremely powerful and corrupts all its users. Therefore, we advise you to use it with caution, even if it does make you invisible. Zaphod Beeblebrox, I'm talking to you here. One more important note: the substance which makes up the Ring reacts vigorously with liquids extracted from living mattresses. These two must never be mixed, for the results are unknown."  
  
Well, they were known now.  
  
The Ring had turned a bright purple color. Its shape and structure had loosened so that it was now a pool of semi-viscous fluid. In a few moments, it cooled, but it retained both the purple color and the flobbery shape.  
  
At this moment, Gandalf woke up.  
  
"Tomfool of a Prefect!" he screamed. "Look what you have done!" He squinted at the distorted letters still glowing from the piece of purple matter that was once the Ring. "One Thing to gruel them all," he read with despair in his voice, "one thing to grind them… one thing to fling them all and in the floppiness blind them. That's not right," he clucked, shaking his head. "That's not right at all."  
  
"I didn't do it," Ford declared, with perfect impunity.  
  
"Well," said Gandalf, "we must get going. Right away. Into Mt. Doom it goes. Not a moment to waste. If Sauron gets ahold of the Thing, not only will darkness descend on Middle-Earth, but he will be so ticked off that someone melted it and turned it purple that he will personally see to your painful demise. Understand?" Pausing to let the group catch up mentally, Gandalf pulled Samwise Gamgee from the bushes. "You! Go with them."  
  
"Huh?" said Sam.  
  
"AAAAGH!" screamed Gandalf. "Just go! Do not torture me with your limpid blue-eyed questioning stares! I am an old man! Just get out! Shoo!"  
  
And with that, he shoved them all out the door. 


	4. A Shortcut to Fruitcakes

Curioser and curioser…  
  
4. A Shortcut to Fruitcakes  
  
  
  
Frodo, Sam, Arthur, Ford, Trillian, and now Merry and Pippin who soon joined them, skipped merrily down a country road the next morning. Well, they didn't skip. And they weren't merry either.  
  
"Can someone tell me where the hell I'm going?" Arthur asked.  
  
"You're going to walk into a tree!" Trillian screamed. Too late. He did.  
  
"We are going to Mt. Doom to destroy the One Thing of evil," Frodo said. "It wouldn't have been a Thing, would it, if not thanks to you?"  
  
"Don't look at me!" Ford wailed.  
  
Suddenly, there was the sound of hooves and ominous shrieks behind them.  
  
"Aaaaaaaagh!" screamed Arthur.  
  
"Eeeeeeeeep!" screamed Trillian.  
  
The party scrambled off the road and watched in terrified amazement as a group of black riders passed. Ford, meanwhile, read intently from the Guide:  
  
"Black Riders, or Nazgul, or Ringwraiths, or Those Ugly Guys, are the nine minions of Sauron. Hitchhikers are not advised to pick an argument with them unless armed with fruitcake."  
  
"Mmm," said Ford. "Fruitcake."  
  
The group tried to find their way without using the road, and soon got lost. As the day darkened, there was suddenly a rustling of leaves behind them.  
  
"Oh, no!" said Merry. "They're coming back for us!"  
  
Footsteps, moans, and other funny noises drew closer.  
  
"We're all going to die!" wailed Pippin.  
  
The bushes rustled. The group stood, petrified with fear. The bushes parted. A stumbling figure came out.  
  
"Zaphod!" said Arthur joyfully.  
  
"You're drunk!" said Trillian.  
  
"Fruitcake," he mumbled incoherently. "Farmer Maggot's fruitcake…" Zaphod waved a chunk of fruitcake dangerously in front of him. "He gave me this," he said with two insane grins, "because I taught him a new use for mushrooms. Wee!" he teetered dangerously. "And then, TEN of those freaky guys in black try to attack me! TEN, I tell you!"  
  
"There were only nine," Ford tried to correct him.  
  
"Ten," said Zaphod, swaying side to side. "And I held up this fruitcake, and I said, 'YOU SHALL NOT PASS! I AM THE KEEPER OF THE SECRET GREEN CHERRIES! ALL SHALL LOVE ME AND VOMIT!' And that did it, baby! They ran away, and I threw these green cherries at them… wait. I don't have any left! And green cherries are my favorite!"  
  
Zaphod sat down on the ground and wept inconsolably. He soon fell into drunken sleep, and the rest of the group was obliged to drag him.  
  
Note: I know not that many people have read both LOTR and the Hitchhiker's Trilogy, so if you're one of those really special people, review and feel even special-er! ( 


	5. In the House of Tom Bombadil and Out in ...

Thanks for all the great reviews! Yes, eventually Marvin, flying, and tea will all be involved. Be patient. As for the actual place this goes in the Hitchhiker timeline… maybe somewhere after Life, the Universe, and Everything?  
  
5. In the House of Tom Bombadil and Out in Fifteen Minutes  
  
After a well-publicized incident with a willow tree, which I have decided to skip over, the group found themselves rescued by one Tom Bombadil.  
  
"Who are you?" asked Frodo.  
  
"What are you?" asked Arthur.  
  
"And why are you wearing boots of yellow?" asked Sam.  
  
Tom grinned maniacally. "Hey merry dol, come derry merry derry dol…"  
  
"Derrière?" wondered Trillian.  
  
Tom's infinite patience began to wear thin, and so he led them into his house. "Come on in and wipe your feet, make sure to hang your coats quite neat! Messes and havoc thou shalt not wreak- for Goldberry is a fell neat freak!" he sang.  
  
At this moment Goldberry emerged, carrying a platter of orange rolls. "Tom?" she said, frowning. "Have you brought company?"  
  
"Merry derry dol," said Tom, and gestured to the group he had with him.  
  
"Aaaaaaagh!" screamed Goldberry. "Two heads!"  
  
"Mmm," said Zaphod, already eating two orange rolls with both heads.  
  
Goldberry promptly passed out on the floor.  
  
"Oh, dear," said Tom. "Still hasn't gotten used to the atmosphere since I brought her out from the river a few thousand years ago."  
  
"Eep!" said Frodo.  
  
  
  
The Hitchhiker's Guide to Middle-Earth says this about Tom Bombadil:  
  
"Avoid him at all costs.  
  
"While hospitable and friendly, Tom Bombadil is the most compulsive singer of cheerful songs in all Middle-Earth. There have been reports of guests' heads exploding after hearing one "merry derry dol" too many. However, Tom is a very old and wise person, who nonetheless will not answer any of your questions.  
  
"Male hitchhikers: if you should become attracted to Goldberry, rest assured that Tom will deliver a swift kick to your sensitive regions with his boots of bright yellow."  
  
"So, let me have a look at that ring," said Tom.  
  
"It's not a ring anymore," Frodo said sadly, giving him the purple Thing.  
  
"Hmm," said Tom. "Very interesting." He put it on and transformed into a large, purple-feathered turkey. This effect only lasted a moment, for he quickly pulled the Thing off. "I'm afraid it doesn't work rightly anymore," he said.  
  
Zaphod, meanwhile, had eaten all of the orange rolls and was now breaking into Tom's wine cabinet.  
  
"Let me tell you the stories of long ago," said Tom nostalgically. "Tom remembers the first raindrop, the first acorn, and the first time Goldberry dragged him to the psychiatrist because he referred to himself in third person. Those were the days when the land was pure and filled with goodness…"  
  
At this moment Goldberry woke up. "What happened to my magical orange rolls?" she asked.  
  
"Magical orange rolls?" asked Trillian, looking concerned.  
  
"Oh, they're to keep Tom in love with me," she said nonchalantly.  
  
Frodo looked at Sam. Arthur looked at Ford. Zaphod looked at Goldberry. For a long time. Tom looked at Zaphod and sent him flying through the window with one vicious kick.  
  
"Out! Get out!" he shouted, and the remaining members of the group ran screaming from the house of Tom Bombadil.  
  
"Damn! The Thing!" said Frodo, and went back in. A moment later he, too, came flying out the window, but with the purple Thing in his hand.  
  
"Okay, let's all go to Bree," Merry decided.  
  
Just then a flock of Saruman's crows descended from the sky, picked Arthur Dent up by his sleeves, and flew off with him. 


	6. A Side Trip to Isengard

6. A Side Trip to Isengard  
  
Arthur was not happy. Flying at about half a mile off the ground and being held up by your sleeves was not conducive to one's happiness, even if one knew how to fly. Arthur decided to talk to the crows.  
  
"So, uh, you guys get frequent flyer miles?"  
  
He did not expect a reply. His expectation was met.  
  
With a resounding crash, Arthur was dropped on the top of what he would later learn to be the Tower of Orthanc. On it was an old man, pacing back and forth, talking to his hat.  
  
"Gandalf!" said Arthur, with surprise.  
  
"Dent!" said Gandalf, with terror.  
  
"What happened to you?" Arthur wondered.  
  
"Life happened," Gandalf muttered. "Do you like my hat?"  
  
Ominous, resounding footsteps came up a flight of stairs. By now Arthur was prepared to expect anything, but he would never have seen what he saw next coming.  
  
"Tie-dye!" he gasped, grappling with his mind like a slippery bar of soap. "Tie-dye… a little piece of home… the sixties…oh, those good old days…"  
  
"I am Saruman of many colors," announced Saruman, examining his robes with pleasure. "One gets sick of wearing white all the time, as it's so difficult to wash. Not that the Grey Fool knows anything about washing…"  
  
Looking at Gandalf, Arthur had to admit that this was true.  
  
"But where'd you get tie-dye?" he asked, still dumbfounded.  
  
Saruman looked confused. Then he quickly remembered to look evil and did that instead. "Have you changed your mind?" he snapped at Gandalf.  
  
"Never!" said the other wizard, holding tightly onto his hat. "It is mine!"  
  
"I don't want your hat," Saruman said, exasperated. "How many times do I have to explain? Now, will you or won't you join me?"  
  
"You're after my hat! All of you! You! And you!" Gandalf spun around, pointing at invisible figures.  
  
"He's been off pipeweed for too long," said Saruman. "Dent!"  
  
"Huh?" replied Arthur.  
  
"Where is the ring?" the evil tie-dye-clad wizard snapped. "You have seen it. Who has it?"  
  
"It's a Thing. And it's purple…"  
  
"Enough!" Saruman shouted, whirled around, and went back down the stairs. Arthur sat for a while, staring at the interesting patterns on the roof, which was, in a way, the floor.  
  
"So," he finally said to Gandalf, "when do they serve lunch?" 


	7. Bree, Strider, and More Stuff.

Disclaimer: I own zip, zilch.  
  
Fear not, I am still writing. Read and review if you haven't already, and if you have. Suggestions welcome. Flames will be sent to Belgium.  
  
7. Bree, Strider, and More Stuff.  
  
"We lost Monkeyman!" wailed Zaphod.  
  
"Arthur can't take care of himself," Ford said decisively, "so it's no use worrying about him."  
  
The hobbits and company were now at the Prancing Pony in the town of Bree. The hobbits were busy stuffing their faces. Ford Prefect was busy ordering drinks Barliman Butterburr had never heard of. Zaphod was busy trying to pick up a girl, but apparently having two heads was not a good asset in Middle-Earth.  
  
Frodo started rummaging through Ford's bag, finally discovering the Hitchhiker's Guide to Middle-Earth. He began reading a passage:  
  
"The town of Bree, population 3000, is composed of both hobbits and humans. Bree is a plesant, if dull, place to stay. Any hitchhiker wishing to get drunk (the only diversion to be found in Bree) should visit the Prancing Pony. Be aware that the Pony is frequented by Rangers, one of whom, Strider/Aragorn, is looking at you RIGHT NOW."  
  
Frodo looked up and saw that a man looking as if his name might be Strider/Aragorn was looking at him. RIGHT NOW. The hobbit gave a yelp and fell backwards in a faint, but was quickly revived by Sam pouring some type of drink down his throat. But this drink was never intended to be consumed by a hobbit. Soon Frodo began to wobble rather unsteadily, and a strange sensation came over him. He had to leap on the table and sing. So he did.  
  
"Zark! I was going to do that!" Zaphod said vehemently.  
  
This was what Frodo sang:  
  
Hey diddle diddle,  
  
The cat and the fiddle,  
  
The jello jumped over the fork;  
  
The little dog laughed to see such sport  
  
And the dish ran away with the spork!  
  
As Frodo finished his song, images blurred and doubled before his drunken eyes, and he toppled off the table with a sickening thud, the Thing slipping onto his finger. He vanished.  
  
"Oopsie!" said Zaphod. "Guess we lost another one!"  
  
A confused Frodo rematerialized and sat up amid shouts and cheers.  
  
"May I present," Trillian said quickly, to save to situation, "the amazing vanishing hobbit!"  
  
Aragorn, meanwhile, inched out of the shadows. He grabbed Frodo by the shoulders and shook him.  
  
"That," he said, "was extremely imprudent… oh, blimey."  
  
Frodo was already asleep.  
  
"We must leave," said Aragorn. "We are in grave danger, and plus I have to see Arwen. You must trust me."  
  
"Can we trust him?" asked Merry.  
  
Pippin held up the Guide, which said, in large letters, TRUST HIM!  
  
"Okay, everything's froody," said Zaphod as they went upstairs. When Butterburr tried to give him the bill he shut the door in his face. 


End file.
